The Assassin
by Elfir
Summary: The night the Potters died, another death was planned. Very short story.


A/N: Digging through my computer, I discovered this short story and decided to post it. Enjoy it as you will :)

The Assassin

The Death Eaters gathered in the great hall did not know all the secrets of their Lord's castle, such as the passage leading into the kitchen from the rose garden, or the hidden portkey at the top of the north tower which would transport the user into the basement, or the hidden passage that opened directly behind their Lord's throne in the great hall. The assassin's breath made no sound as he stood in that hidden passage, waiting and listening.

"My loyal servant has delivered the location of the Potters," the Lord said to the gathered Inner Circle. The assassin did not need to see to know who he indicated. The round young man who looked so harmless but his weakness was also his strength. He was called Wormtail, sometimes Peter. "Tonight they will parish by my wand."

The Death Eaters cheered - it was an appropriate thing to do. James Potter was trouble for their kind, as would be his son after him. The Evans girl was unfortunate, but she had the bad taste to involve herself.

"That is not all, my followers," the Lord interrupted. "Tonight, Albus Dumbledore will die."

They were too shocked to cheer for a long moment. Dumbledore was the most powerful and well-defended light wizard in the country, perhaps the world. They all expected he would fall one day, but it was expected to be very gradual, destroying his supporters one by one. But no one who was targeted by their Lord ever survived. If he said it would be done, then it must be so. The Death Eaters cheered once more.

They soon departed, in ones and twos, to make ready for All Hollows Eve, a night that promised much blood, destruction, and terror. When the last Death Eater was gone, the assassin slunk out from his hiding place.

Lord Voldemort was someone few people met alone and survived the experience. The Death Eaters met him in pairs at least. Only the victims he chose to torture personally ever saw him alone. The assassin was alone with Lord Voldemort.

Still wrapped in shadow, the assassin threw one completely mundane throwing dagger at the Lord, aimed for his heart. Four inches from the Lord's back, the blade froze in the air and clattered to the ground.

"You're getting slow," the assassin said. "If Dumbledore's crowd had an assassin, you might be dead by now."

"If I had not invited you, you would be dead by now," the Lord replied coldly. He crossed the floor and took a seat on his throne. "And those fools would never think of using such 'dishonorable' tactics."

The assassin stepped from the shadows and knelt before him. "My Lord."

"Autumn is here," said the Lord.

"Yes, my Lord."

"The weather witches say the first frost will come tonight. Frost kills so many simple creatures. The bumblebee, for instance. The simple bumblebee's life should end with the first frost." Had anyone been listening, they would listen in wonder to the great Lord, whose very name turned men's courage to glass, speaking so casually of the seasons.

"Yes, my Lord," the assassin rose to his feet. The assassin dared the briefest glance at the face of the Lord. There was little left of the orphan boy he once was - such was his intention - but the assassin knew an angry boy lived at the core of the Lord. The assassin left the castle through another hidden passage, silent as a shadow.

* * *

The owners of Honeyduke's would report a break in the next morning, but by then it wouldn't matter, one way or the other. It was the job of the assassin to know the ins and outs of every place he worked, even if it was as good at keeping it's secrets as Hogwarts. Getting Wormtail drunk enough to reveal all the secrets of his former school had not been enjoyable, but completely worth while.

The assassin took his time traveling through the tunnel. A foolish boy with the magical ability of a goldfish could not be trusted to know the actual secrecy of 'secret' passages. He reached the end of the passage nearly an hour later and slipped out from behind the statue of a humpbacked witch. He listened carefully to the noises of the castle. The hallway was empty.

The assassin crept down the hall, keeping to the shadows and always knowing at least two places nearby where he could hide. He found no one in the halls until he reached the bottom of the stairs of the first floor. A thin man, hairline receding, walked towards the dungeon stairs from the great hall, muttering to himself. The assassin stepped into the shadow, intending to let the old fool go past.

The man stopped walking, peering into the shadows where the assassin stood. "Students are supposed to be at the feast," he sneered. "Twenty points from Gryffindor." The man reached into the shadows and the assassin eluded his grasp, unintentionally stepping out of the shadow.

"You're no student!" the man growled, reaching for his wand. A dagger appeared in his throat and he fell to the stone floor, bleeding profusely.

There was blood on the assassin's hands and clothing, the messing giving him an all too obvious scent to his sensitive nose. Hiding in the shadows would not work any more. He must act quickly or have no chance of success at all. The assassin raced back up the stairs, finding a place from which he could observe the body. It would be found shortly and Professor Dumbledore would be called in. The assassin readied another throwing dagger.

The Halloween Feast ended and the students crowded through the doors of the great hall. In a second, the first Slytherin, walking towards the dungeons and the her common room, screamed. The first scream was met by others and looks of horror crossed the faces of those too stunned to make a sound.

The Head Girl was the next to arrive on the scene and she fled back into the great hall, shouting, "Professor! Professor!"

At last the assassin saw the long white hair of Dumbledore arrive along side a tall witch. The assassin stopped listening. He stood, gripping the dagger's handle, taking aim.

A wave of pain flooded into his body from some source not of Hogwarts. It took him a moment to recognize what was happening. The spell that bound his life to his Lord's was lashing back upon him, ripping the life from his body. The pain was terrible. The assassin screamed in agony.

The students and teachers in the hall below looked up and stared at him. Dumbledore waved his wand and shouted a series of spells, drawing a magical shield over them. Just in time, as the assassin fell from his hiding place, hitting the barrier. His screams continued to ring in the ears of those students for months and years to come.


End file.
